‘I’m sure. And under normal circumstances I wouldn’t take you away from it. But you have shown yourself to be a natural at investigative work.’ Abascantius leaned forward. ‘This is for the Emperor himself, Corbulo. He believes, he must win and secure the favour of Sol. And what he believes, we must believe. You called Elagabalus one of the worst emperors of all time. Quite right, but in this Dacian we might have one of the best. A few have come and gone in my time but finally we have a man worthy of the purple. Pulcher tells me he may even be planning a move into Gaul, to crush the usurper Tetricus. You and I have taken an oath to serve him. Do not forget that.’
Though he resented Abascantius’s rather obvious attempts at manipulation, Cassius found himself nodding. Aurelian was an aggressive, astute commander yet also a man dedicated to peace and prosperity for the Empire. If that could be achieved, all would benefit, Cassius included.
‘Sir, please forgive my outburst.’
‘Already forgotten. Now, time’s getting on. I need a bath and a good night’s sleep. I’ll see Calvinus in the morning, then call in here and give you the details.’
‘Very well, sir.’
‘I will, however, say this. All must do their duty and their share but — yes — it could be argued you have already done more than yours. How much longer must you serve under the agreement with your father?’
‘Almost exactly two years, sir.’
‘Then I offer you another agreement. If you recover the stone, I’ll guarantee you six months behind a desk. How does that sound?’
There was a sudden thump against the front door.
Muranda ran through into the kitchen. ‘Someone’s outside, sir. Could it be those men from earlier?’
‘What men?’ asked Abascantius as they stood up.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing, sir.’
Even so, Cassius kept his hand on his dagger as he hurried across the atrium. ‘Who’s there?’
From outside came a strange groan.
‘Indavara?’ Cassius opened the door. Abascantius had grabbed a lamp and he held it over the figure lying across the path.
Indavara’s top half had crushed a shrub. He gazed up at the light, eyes glassy.
‘Gods.’ Cassius knelt down and checked him for injuries.
‘Is he hurt?’ asked Abascantius.
Cassius inhaled a heavy waft of wine. ‘Drunk.’
‘Ah. Does he do this often?’
‘Never. Can’t take more than three or four mugs.’
Abascantius gave the lamp to Muranda. ‘I’ll take his legs. Let’s get him inside.’
‘By Jupiter, he’s even heavier than he looks,’ spluttered the agent as they finally lowered Indavara’s limp form onto the bed.
‘This end’s even worse.’
Though his eyes were closed, Indavara waved at something, then turned onto his side and promptly began to snore.
Abascantius eyed the livid pink scarring upon his right shin. ‘That new?’
‘From Cyrenaica. The fight with Carnifex. It got badly infected a while back but Simo dealt with it.’
The agent turned his attention to the arrangement of the bed. It had been pushed up against one wall and was corralled by the rest of Indavara’s belongings.
‘He always does that,’ explained Cassius. ‘Simo thinks it’s because he was in a cell for so long. It’s strange — I’d have thought he’d want as much space as possible.’
‘Fought for three or four years, didn’t he? Not many survive the arena that long.’
‘Six. Six years.’
‘Remarkable. So you think he got drunk because of what happened today?’
‘Probably,’ replied Cassius as they left the bedroom.
‘Come. I need to stretch my legs — you can tell me about it.’
As Cassius pulled the curtain across Indavara’s doorway, Muranda appeared outside the kitchen.
‘I’ll be back shortly,’ Cassius told her. ‘Keep all the doors locked.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Upon reaching the fortress gate they met the two sentries. Though in theory the men should have asked for some identification or at least the day’s password, the officers’ red tunics — or perhaps Abascantius’s reputation — saw them through without a word. Once inside, the agent sauntered along one side of the parade ground, Cassius beside him.
‘So?’
Cassius related what Indavara had told him about the incident at the hippodrome and the pursuit of the mob.
‘Could have been nasty. You need to keep a closer eye on him, Corbulo. Surely I don’t need to remind you about the importance of keeping him in our employ. Indavara is a valuable asset. I advise you to treat him as such.’
‘There is something else, sir. Something he told me in Cyrenaica. It too perhaps explains his troubles.’
‘Go on.’
‘I–I felt when he told me that it’s not something he would want passed around. Simo knows, but-’
‘Who would I tell?’ snapped Abascantius. ‘Continue.’
‘Indavara has no memory of his life before the arena. He was hit on the head somehow and the first thing he remembers is coming to there. The only man that knew him from before was killed not long after. All he knows is his name.’
Abascantius stopped and gazed at the torches lining the barracks on the other side of the parade ground. ‘By the gods, that does explain a lot.’
‘That naivety he has about him, sir, that innocence. Whatever earlier experiences he had, he cannot draw upon them. All he has known is those six years then the time after.’
‘He remembers nothing?’
‘Not a thing. I’ve offered to help by contacting his former owner in Pietas Julia — where he came from. Perhaps we might find some answers for him.’
Abascantius set off again. They turned at the corner of the parade ground and continued along beside a high wall. ‘Perhaps. But such a distraction would be in neither of our best interests.’
Cassius felt a little guilty; discussing Indavara’s fate while the poor bastard slept. But the situation had to be resolved somehow.
‘Honestly, sir, I think he’s better off with us. Simo gets on well with him; he’s teaching him to read and write and count. But this incident, clearly it has affected him. He spoke of leaving for good.’
‘We cannot have that. I will double his payment for this operation.’
‘Sir, I’m not sure that’s the issue. Apart from weapons he has no real interest in possessions; no one to spend it on. In fact, money just makes him more independent of us — more able to leave if that is his wish. He spoke of having no place in the world.’
‘Yet he has already risked his life for the Service. For Rome.’
‘He has risked his life for myself and Simo, yes. And for others. But not for Rome. Earlier today he told me it was just another job.’
As they approached the barracks, Abascantius stopped again. ‘That needs to change. We must make him feel wanted, Corbulo. We must give him his place.’
V
‘About bloody time. I was just coming to kick your bed again.’
A bleary-eyed Indavara tottered out of the kitchen towards Cassius, who was taking his breakfast in the courtyard. Slumping down on a stool, he eyed his plate.
‘Go ahead,’ said Cassius, pushing it across the table. ‘I don’t want any more anyway.’
As the bodyguard pulled a roll apart, Muranda appeared in the doorway. ‘Morning, Master Indavara.’
Indavara managed to raise a hand as he stuffed the bread into his mouth.
Cassius held up his mug. ‘Another, Muranda. And plenty of water for him.’
As the sun reappeared from behind a cloud, light filled the courtyard. Indavara bowed his head and kept eating, fringe hanging over his eyes.
‘How did I get home?’ he murmured.
‘No idea,’ said Cassius, leaning back and crossing his legs. ‘We found you passed out in front of the door. Where’d you go?’
‘Some tavern.’
‘You’re lucky those men didn’t find you.’